(tw for this chapter. attempted forced abortion, threats of mutilation.)

They had stayed together that night and every night for a fortnight. Aemond made a point to the serving staff that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstance during the night after dinner or the morning before he broke his fast. He had shown Rosemary the tunnels connecting through the keep– her first experience with it being when he rescued her from certain death and brought her into his bedroom– and they became their haven to get to one another.

After their first coupling, Rosemary fell asleep in his bed, sprawled out next to him. She murmured in her sleep quite a lot, he noted, as he had watched her for a few hours before finally sleeping himself– but not before barring his door, just in case. When the morning light strewn from the half-drawn blinds, Rosemary's eyes fluttered open and it took her a moment to realize where she was exactly.

Turning over, vision still blurry, her hands ran through Aemond's hair, interweaving it between her fingers, his scent filling her nostrils and making her snuggle up closer to him. It felt very dream-like, and she wondered if she was still dreaming. Poking her nose against his head, she slipped her arms to his waist, effectively spooning him, clinging to him like a leech. The events of the previous day exhausted her, physically and mentally– she knew that her current position, to be clear, her position being naked, skin to skin with the prince in his bed, was likely a precarious one– but with the brush of death just the day before, she decided for the time being that she didn't care. She wanted the illusion of happiness, even if only for a few hours.

Aemond gave a little grunt in response to her shifting movements, effectively dislodging her from his back, then turning over. His one violet eye was bleary with sleep, the puckered skin around his other socket twitching– he had taken out the sapphire some time during the night. His hand came up, fingertips brushing against the soft skin of her chin, then trailing up her jawline, committing the slope of her bones to memory. His lips were pursed slightly, his tongue darting out to wet them as he leaned forward, kissing her forehead slowly.

Rosemary let out a sigh of contentment, followed by a soft giggle. "Your whiskers," she whispered, tugging his chin down in turn, her thumb rasping over his skin where the very beginnings of unshaved stubble tickled against the bridge of her nose, "Tickles."

"Whiskers? Am I a cat now?" he grinned, letting her tug his head all she liked.

"Mmm, yes," she responded, "A contemptuous tom cat."

"Contemptuous," he echoed, notching their noses together, lips ghosting over one another. "Such sophisticated vocabulary for so early in the morn." he closed the gap and kissed her softly. It was intended to be short, sweet and chaste.

But the smallest of moans escaped her throat. He pulled back, brow perked. Her face was christened with red, eyes half-lidded as she settled against his lips again, their mouths moving fervently against one another. Aemond found it quite amusing, his mouth curved into a sly grin as he moved his hand up her bare thigh, fondling the soft, doughy flesh near her bottom.

She responded immediately, her body contorting into his, her nipples brushing against his chest. They parted momentarily, to which she was hastily whispering, "T-teach me," she quivered, "How to please you– I want... I want you to feel like I did last night when," Rosemary looked slightly bashful, "When you put your... mouth on me."

"You please me just fine," he hummed back, supplanting his mouth against her throat, leaving trails of kisses and bites.

"Please, Aemond," she whimpered, tugging on his hair to pull his head back so they could lock gazes. "... I want to make you fall apart like you did I."

Aemond gave a puff of acquiescence. "There are many things– but you are still injured, I don't wish to push you," he laid flat on his back, pushing hair out of his face. His length was standing at attention, leaking at the tip. "Use your mouth."

She shifted her body to lay across his chest, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hand grasped at the base of his shaft, giving it an experimental tug. She felt his fingers lace themselves into her hair.

"That isn't your mouth, little lamb," he chastised, "Turn this way– need to see your face."

Letting him guide her head and position her body, she was laying on her side, strewn across his legs.

"Open," he murmured, and as she did so, he took his free hand, prodding two fingers into her mouth, suppressing her tongue. The act caused her mouth to fill with saliva, the wetness pooling just before her lip. "Keep it open." Aemond grunted as he lowered her slowly by the hair, fixating the head of his cock into her mouth, nestling between her lips and she gave a hum of satisfaction at the salty taste. The saliva spilled over, dripping down his length and onto the patch of dark hair at the base.

Slowly, he rocked her head up and down, hardly moving down his length, but just to exemplify the motion. Loosening his hold on her hair, he let her take the lead. She gave a few kitten licks before copying the bobbing motion, eventually making her way past the tip. Her eyes, now wide open, watched his face carefully to try and catch any change of emotion. The scent of him— warm and all consuming— filled her nostrils, encouraging her further. She managed to make it more than half way down his cock before faltering, a tiny mewl escaping her as it prodded the back of her throat, a few tears spilling down her cheeks.

Aemond was good at suppressing his expressions normally, able to hide his contempt, glee or any other emotion he may be feeling within him, keeping a stone-faced facade. However– all of his premonitions and his usual well-schooled features fell apart as he watched Rosemary suck him off, those pretty, huge brown eyes wide, tears forming at her lash line from her exertions– she made little whimpering noises, similar to the ones from the night before when he was fucking her that made him go insane. This was true madness, wasn't it? Seeing the woman you love drooling on your cock– wait. Love? Love. The notion caught him off guard, the feeling going straight to his core. He fucking loved her. He felt the tightening of his balls and knew he needed more– he reached quickly and pulled Rosemary off of his length, earning him a confused whine.

"Did I do something wrong?" she whimpered.

"No- you were perfect," he breathed heavily, the heights of his cheeks tinged with rose, "Just... come here," he leaned forward, picking her up easily and placating her atop his length– not inside yet, but horizontally between her folds. She was soaked, the cheeky woman. "Want to... spend inside of you." he hummed, his stomach twisting slightly at his admission, feeling the smallest tinge of bashfulness at it. His hands squeezed her bottom, giving it a tiny smack. He was trying to hold back and not be too rough with her– she was still recovering from the ordeal– but damn the Gods if he didn't want to take her right now, fast and hard. He wanted her on every surface of the room, every place in the Red Keep, his little cockdrunk lamb.

"Mmm," she nodded slowly, biting her lip. Her thighs quivered as his slicked cock brushed against her clit, sending jolts throughout her. "Please."

"I'll do the work," he leaned up, whispering in her ear, "Just sit back and look pretty, sweet lamb." he kissed at her neck as he positioned her, sliding her down his length and slotting into her. He nestled nicely in her, giving her another moment to adjust.

"A-ah," she mewled, her previously wide eyes back to their half-lidded stupor, "Feels different."

He hummed in response, moving his hips and her body in tandem as he fucked into her, hitting that sweet spot more easily from his angle, bullying against it. His fingers left red marks on her thighs and he hoped, prayed that when she would look at them later in the mirror, she would feel him all over again– think of him. Her sweet little noises spurred him on like a call to action, his hands moving to flatten against her spine, letting her lay back on them, her nails sinking into his thighs as she tried to find purchase to stay aloft.

Even with him doing all of the work, she still looked exhausted, her face reddened, a bead of sweat forming at her brow. Her walls clenched around him as she neared her end, he guessed. His thumb grazed down from her spine to between her legs, sliding against her clit in tandem with his bucking. "C'mon," he growled in her ear, biting on her lobe gently, "Come undone for me, my sweet girl."

"Aemond, Aemon-d-... !" her voice came in hazy, feverish whines as she barrelled towards her end, taking him with her.

Rosemary clenched around him like a vice, burying her face into his shoulder, descending into a panting mess.

His climax followed soon after, his movements stilling as he came inside of her, grunting like a besotted dragon. "Mine, fucking mine, mine," he growled, his nose pressed to her neck as they both caught their breaths. "Mine."

Their days started and ended much the same way– Aemond did well on his promise to himself to have her on every surface in his chambers. On the bed, over his desk, on the floor in front of the fire. They coupled like a pair of newly-weds, unable to keep their hands to themselves for the majority of the day.

They still had to be careful, though– extremely so. Aemond did his best to investigate the man that had attacked her in the city, but by the time he returned to where the body was, all evidence was washed away. Some carefully laid questions to the City Watch turned up nothing– it was as if it never happened, the man that he killed never existed. They were also extremely careful with the possible repercussions from their pairings– Lady Jeyne had taught Rosemary the recipe for moon tea many years prior, so she made sure to have a stockpile of herbs for such occasions, although her memorization of the exact recipe was teetering on hazy. She felt much sickness throughout the day, attributing it to the tea, as it was known to upset stomachs and the like.

A full two moons after their affair began, Rosemary was in Helaena's solar, folding clothes. She was perched on the settee while Helaena and the children were out, tidying up around the chambers. A knock at the door interrupted her focused reverie, her head lifting up. She hadn't the faintest idea who it could be.

Opening the heavy door, Floris Baratheon was on the other side. Her features were schooled into a neutral pleasant smile. "Ah," she started, her hands placed neatly over one another, "Is my good-sister to be here?" she asked.

Rosemary blinked. She hadn't totally forgotten about Aemond's impending marriage to Floris– in fact, it was one of her sources of ire. As unenthused as Aemond seemed with the match, Rosemary couldn't help but be fearful of what it meant for them once he and Floris wed. She straightened her dress, putting on her best open-minded and objective face– trying not to think about the fact that Floris' husband-to-be was breeding her practically every night. "Lady Baratheon," she smiled softly, "I'm sorry, but Princess Helaena isn't here– she is out with the children and the Queen at the moment. Is it an urgent matter, my lady? I'd be happy to take a message for her grace."

Floris shifted slightly, inclining her neck into the chambers. "Ah– well, mayhaps you can help me, then," she gave a saccharine sweet smile, "I am trying to embroider a gift for the princess– we are to be sisters, after all– and you should know her better than most, as her handmaiden. Would you say that would be a correct presumption?"

"Oh– yes. I am quite close with Princess Helaena and know her quite well," she hummed, "What are you trying to embroider for her?"

"I haven't quite started yet, I am looking for the right subject to portray. Could I interest you in tea later this afternoon, Lady Rosemary? We can talk about Helaena's favorite things in my chambers– if it would interest you."

Rosemary cocked her head slightly, her guard going up. She was a servant– mayhaps not as lowly as others in the Keep, but subservient nonetheless. She wasn't entirely sure why Floris would be inviting her to tea to talk about the princess. "That is... a most gracious offer, my lady. I would love to sit with you for tea but I have much to do once Helaena and the children return– and I am not a Lady, just Rosemary is fine." she gave a lopsided smile, fiddling with the hem of her dress as her anxiety rose.

"Please– I insist," Floris continued, leaning forward slightly, "It will only be... fifteen minutes of your time. How about at high noon?"

Rosemary's stomach churned as Floris stared her down. She was a servant, and was to be subservient to the others in the Keep, especially a high-ranking Lady such as Floris. She couldn't exactly say no. Slowly, she nodded.

Floris was overjoyed immediately. "Oh, perfect! I will see you then." she curtsied and jotted off.

High noon rode around quite quickly and Rosemary was pacing around all the while– she wore a small hole in her sleeve from her incessant picking. She knocked on Floris' door, down the way from the main gathering of chambers in the Holdfast. "My lady? It's... ehm, Rosemary."

"Come in, come in," Floris called. She was sitting at the tea table, two additional seats pulled up. "Help yourself." she waved over her personal maid, whispering something in the young girl's ear. The maid nodded and left right away, closing the double doors to the chamber, as well as the doors to the adjoining room they were to sit in.

"... thank you for your most gracious invitation, my lady," Rosemary murmured, sitting down on one of the pulled out chairs, glancing at the empty one next to her. "You wished to speak of Princess Helaena?"

"Mm, yes," Floris smiled, swirling her tea with her spoon, continuing to motion for Rosemary to drink her own. "Tell me, what does the princess fancy?"

Rosemary swallowed, staring down at her tea. The smell was oddly familiar, and yet she couldn't quite place it at the moment, the rest of her senses overwhelmed. She didn't take a sip, just stirred it errantly, mimicking Floris. "Oh, well, she loves bugs. It caught me off guard at first as well but you get used to it, and it becomes quite endearing. Right now she is set on procuring a Dornish Horned beetle, which is apparently exceedingly rare."

Floris' spoon scraped the side of her cup as she listened to Rosemary prattle on about Helaena. With each breath leaving the handmaiden's mouth, she became more and more irritable, like flecks of porcelain breaking off of a shattering vase. "I hope you don't mind, but I invited a friend to dine with us."

Her mouth went dry, the alarm bells going off in her head. Turning back, she heard the hollowed thump of a cane. A slightly hunched over man approached, an unnerving smile plastered on his face. Larys Strong. "Good afternoon ladies," he hummed, taking a seat right next to Rosemary. "How is the tea?"

Floris shifted in her seat, her eye line casted downward, away from Larys, as if afraid to meet his gaze.

"Ehm," Rosemary started, "I hadn't... tried any yet, truthfully."

"Hm," Larys leaned back in his seat, hands steepled on the top of his cane. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting, my lady. You may know me— Lord Larys Strong." he pried a hand from his cane, offering it to Rosemary.

"Rosemary Stone, my lord," she shook his hand— it was clammy and made her skin crawl— forcing herself to smile. "I'm no lady, my lord, just Rosemary is alright."

"Ah? Not a lady?" he inquired, pouring himself tea, but just like Floris, not actually drinking it. "I find that quite odd, with the company you keep, rubbing elbows with the royal family."

Her grip on her spoon tightened and she used every ounce of willpower in her body to keep a cool head. "I beg your pardon, my lord— I don't quite understand your notion. I am Princess Helaena's handmaiden and caretaker to her three children, but I assure you, it's nothing more than professional obligation." she kept her voice steady, even if it was a blatant lie.

"Ah? Ever dutiful you must be. To be requested specifically by Prince Aemond, then handed off to the princess and promoted to handmaiden so quickly– if Princess Helaena ever tires of you, mayhaps you would serve well as my handmaiden?" Larys gave a small smile, but there was no warmth behind it.

Rosemary shifted uncomfortably in her chair, feeling very much like a cornered animal. "... that is a kind offer, my lord, thank you." she spoke methodically, staring into the expanse of her tea. She raised it to her lips, drinking in the scent. It was strong and herbal, but nothing like the usual herbs used for tea. The sticky scent lingered in her nose and churned her stomach– she didn't wish to drink it. She knew the scent from somewhere– it smelled of resin and balsam and she could practically feel the clinging of sap to her nose. Glancing up, she looked at Floris, who was leaning forward in her chair intently, waiting for Rosemary to drink it. The scent finally registered in her mind. Tansy. Sticky, medicinal tansy. This was tansy tea– more commonly known as moon tea.

Rosemary's demeanor and facade had been strong throughout– but her heart stopped momentarily, her eyes going wide. They know, they know. They fucking know– they know– her face told all as she placed the cup down with shaky hands. "I-I... I should really get back to the princess, she will worry if I am gone for long." she hadn't really thought of the possibility of her being pregnant with the prince's child– she had taken her moontea, right?

The waft of strong mint perforated her nose then. She recognized it as wormwood– another ingredient in moontea. The one that she had forgotten. Moon tea was a very specific recipe, needed to be made with specific herbs in terribly accurate amounts, any of the amounts left out may result in the brew not doing its intended purpose: preventing a child. Drinking the wrong tea for the two moons that she and Aemond had been together– her hand clutched her stomach. Her illness she experienced throughout the day wasn't an effect of the tea. She was pregnant– she'd missed her monthly bloods, stupidly attributing it to the tea.

Bile rose in the back of her throat as she stared down at the tea. They knew; Floris and Larys. They knew she was in bed with the prince every night, filled to the brim with his seed and then some. They meant to rid her of the child growing inside of her. Moon tea was meant to be drunk the morning after coupling, or within two days. There was no telling the effect it would have this far into a pregnancy– it would likely kill her trying to induce miscarriage.

Floris clenched the table. "Drink your tea, maid. It's rude to not drink it."

"P-please– I... I must... I must go– Helaena... the children."

"What are children– but a weakness," Larys said then, "A folly, a futility. You know the right thing must be done here, dear Rosemary. But you are hesitant, love stays the hand. Love is a downfall. We shall give you two options to choose from, Rosemary Stone. First, you shall drink the tea and leave the keep, leave the city. Second, you choose not to drink the tea– that is truly the wrong choice, I'm afraid– and you will be shipped to the Silk Street where I know of a woman whose speciality is cutting out bastard babies from the mother. She has a surprisingly high survival rate, truly. Then, you shall join the Silent sisters and become a handmaiden of the dead– a vow of silence written in blood, the wagging appendage in your mouth snuffed out, cut out, ripped out, it matters naught."

Floris, all the while, was simmering. "You're ruining everything– I don't understand his obsession with you, truly! You're a maid, a bastard at that. What is so special about you?" she stood up now, flinging her own cup to the ground. "Drink the fucking tea!"

Rosemary felt like she was floating outside of her body, her ears ringing. Her fingers felt numb as she still held the tea to her lips, trembling like a leaf. "It... it's too late– the tea," she croaked, "It... would kill me if I drank it–"

"All the better, then!" Floris leaned across the table, pushing the cup towards Rosemary's mouth.

She didn't want to drink it– she didn't. Letting go of the cup, she pushed back against Floris' hand, shoving her backwards, along with her tea. It all happened so fast, Floris suddenly atop Rosemary on the ground, smacking and slapping her. "You're ruining it, ruining everything! Why can't you just go away?!" the tablecloth came down in a crash, sending all of the porcelain to the ground.

Rosemary put her arms up once again, shielding her face from Floris' demented assault. "St-Stop!" she was screaming now.

The doors to the solar flew open. "Ah, my good-sister to be!" it was Aegon. Aegon? Wha– "Goodness, what's going on here?" he walked around the room, Ser Arryk behind him. "Ah, Rosemary. Helaena is looking for you, no time to be... hm, what are you two doing? Quite a precarious position, Lady Baratheon, seemingly beating my poor lady wife's favorite handmaiden."

Floris froze, letting up her grip on Rosemary, sliding off of her. She was silent.

"And Larys Strong– didn't know you were an enjoyer of two women with one another, hm? Ah, but we all have our own odd proclivities, don't we?" Aegon sauntered over to Rosemary, scooping her up into his arms. Her face was reddened from the slaps that Floris managed to get in, her nose bleeding. "I'll be taking her, Helaena is distraught, you must understand. I'll be sure not to mention this... indiscretion to my mother, grandsire, or brother, as a favor. Good day to you both." he gave a wobbly bow, obviously not used to holding the weight of a woman in his arms. He walked out of the solar and into the hallway, cautiously looking side-to-side. "Ser Arryk, make sure they don't follow."

The knight nodded, standing at the door.

Aegon huffed, adjusting Rosemary in his arms. "I'm not cut out for this saving maidens in distress business, truly. Though, I suppose you aren't a maiden anymore."

"... out of all of the people, I expected you least, Aegon."

"You underestimate the power of Helaena when she is... in her moods. Usually she's quiet, despondent," he slunk close to the wall, prying open a door behind a statue and descending into the tunnels, "But this time– she was incorrigible, crying, squawking– it was giving me a headache. Consider this my good act of the decade," Aegon shrugged, walking through the tunnels with ease, he'd obviously traipsed through them frequently. "... may it be my moment of sobriety, but... you make my sister and brother happy. You're good with my children– I may be a fucking idiot but I'm not blind."

"... thank you, Aegon." she murmured as he shouldered his way through another opening, leading them out to Helaena's solar.

She was there, distraught and pacing. When the doorway hinged, she descended upon them like a swarm of butterflies. "Oh, Rosemary, are you alright? Oh, that horrible woman has bloodied up your nose!" Helaena sniffed, her eyes rimmed red. She glanced at Aegon then, nodding to him. "Thank you, brother."

"Don't mention it– please. I can't have my reputation as a lecher ruined by my acts of goodness." he laid Rosemary down on the settee, nodding to her and Helaena before retreating back into the tunnels.

Helaena stooped down next to Rosemary. "I... I saw it– they were going to hurt you, even more than that silly doe hoofing you," she swallowed, putting her hand on her friend's cheek, "... you must leave."

"Leave?"

"It's not safe. You must leave, you must. I hate to get you up after just sitting down but we must leave now."

"N-now? But... Aemond," Rosemary murmured, her eyes stinging. "He doesn't know anything that's happened– he... he could protect me... us."

"You know as well as I that if Aemond found out, Larys nor Floris would be leaving this keep alive, charred to the bone and sinew. That would be... complicated for a number of reasons– politics are... delicate. It wouldn't do well for him to kill his betrothed, especially the daughter of a hothead like Borros."

"I can't just leave him, Helaena– I'm... pregnant."

"I know," she hummed softly, pressing their noses together, "You are now my sweet sister, in blood and heart. But... we must go. Come." she pulled Rosemary up from the settee, wrapping a plain cloak around her and pulling up the hood, leading her to the tunnels again. "Aegon told me the way out." she held Rosemary's hand in her own, the other skimming the wrought stone. "Made to choose, but they choose for me," Helaena muttered under her breath, "We must have these tunnels guarded more carefully, I think."

They approached the end, cracking the wooden door open. "... I will miss you. I have not seen if we will meet again, but I sorely hope we do. But if not... you are the greatest friend I've known, the kindest– you are my sister, truly. We are but two butterflies that met on the breeze, but not meant for eternity, I fear," Helaena let go of her hand, pressing a heavy sack in her hand, the jingling of coins heard, "Make a new life far from here, a place with lots of nectar for you, beautiful flowers," she leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, "Take care of my nephew."

"Two butterflies," Rosemary responded, tears flowing down her face, "I quite like that," she paused for a moment, "I fear Aemond would disagree. He thinks me a lamb. Helaena– tell him... tell him I love him– tell... tell him something."

"You shall tell him yourself one day, I hope. Now, be free, woolen butterfly, flitting on the breeze..." she kissed Rosemary's cheek and parted from her, descending back into the tunnels, walking back to her solar. "The thread weaves once more, mending opened wounds... herbs shall turn to flowers, blooming."

–

It was past dinner time, well past it. And yet, she wasn't here. His Rosemary was nothing if not punctual.

It must be something with the twins, or Maelor– mayhaps Helaena needed her help with something– she wouldn't be late on purpose. Aemond paced, stopping at his wardrobe and opening it, pushing through a false-back and pulling out a soft silken garment, Rosemary's nightwear. It smelled of her, so sweet and warm, lavender and that scented soapberry brew she bathed in.

The unlatching of a lock was heard towards the bookshelf, where his room connected to the tunnels, she must be here, surely. "Rosemary, love. You're a bit late." he admonished softly, the pads of his fingers rasping against the fabric absentmindedly.

It was a crop of blonde hair that passed through the threshold of the tunnels– but not Rosemary.

"Helaena? Where is Rosemary?"

"Brother," she murmured, her voice solemn, "There's... been an accident.